


Unexpected Solace

by ciarnys



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:46:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3497249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciarnys/pseuds/ciarnys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p> ... the little we understand implies their bond was not romantic, beyond even the strongest friendship. The legends [Dirthamen and Falon’Din] may have been an allegory for complex elven relationships we lack context to comprehend.<br/><em> Codex Entry: Twins in Shadow</em><br/></p>
</blockquote>Lavellan is surprised to realize that despite her circumstances in the Inquisition, she finds a friend.<p>[Each chapter can be read individually.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Familiar Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana meets the apostate elf Solas, whose stories remind her of elders in her clan. In weeks they become fast friends, and after the events at Haven, he suggests a place for the Inquisition to grow.

She was in the midst of fighting demons when she first saw him.  
Seeing an apostate elf using magic surprised her. The little experience she had with humans left her with the idea that they were quick to twitch at anyone using magic. But they were all busy fighting for their lives, and thus he soon faded from her memory, leaving only the vague impression of a serious man. After being forced – for there was no other way to describe her presence – to stay in Haven, she learned that the elf apostate was present in the small town, despite the growing presence of templars. Her curiosity of such a strange presence in such a strange situation persuaded her to meet him on her own terms. He was one of the People, and though that did not mean he was immediately trustworthy, he had to be an improvement on the humans that kidnapped her. She found him leaning on one of the buildings, staring fiercely at the Breach. For the first time Ellana noticed his face was bare; he was a flat-ear then, from the shemlen cities.

“Ah, excuse me. Perhaps I should come at a later time,” she spoke quietly, unwilling to disturb his focus.  
He stood up straight, and on a less thoughtful man, his expression could be considered startled. “Forgive me. I did not hear you approach.”  
Lavellan offered a small smile to this stranger. “I would make a terrible hunter if you did.” That seemed to amuse him enough to offer her the hint of a smile. He introduced himself as Solas, and she immediately thought there was no way any parents would bestow such a name on a child. He must have taken that name himself once he grew older, but why someone would name himself ‘pride’ was beyond her. 　　　

She quickly learned that it didn’t take much to make him talk; any mention of the Fade or spirits would send him into a lengthy discussion about them. Not that she minded; it reminded her of home and the academic debates the mages in the clan would have whenever things got too quiet. Since the Breach doomed her to fight demons whether she wanted to or not, it was an easy and pleasant way to learn about the enemy.

Within weeks the two built a steady friendship after that initial conversation. Solas reminded her of the old wise elves named _hahrens_ within the Dalish, people full of knowledge about the old ways. Before the Conclave she was studying to become one, and a familiar stranger like him was comforting. Unlike her peers, she wasn’t a scholar; she struggled with knowing the difference between Andraste and the Maker. The concept of learning letters was foreign to her, but reading people was not.

While Solas was quick to voice his disdain for the Dalish, Ellana knew better than to believe him. He cared deeply about the Dalish; it was in the underlying strength of his voice whenever he had a criticism, or the flash in his eyes whenever he heard one of their ‘erroneous superstitions.’ Having used blunt words instead of kind ones, it was no surprise to her that he received such a cold reception from the few clans he visited. It was not in her nature to point out the flaws in others, however, so she kept that particular secret to herself. When she asked him about his skills, he claimed to be self-taught, but it was a blatant lie. She had a mage sister and knew the risks that untaught magic possessed. The extent of his gift was too large to learn it all on his own without losing his mind, even if he conversed with spirits. But she did not question it; after all, he rarely asked her about her own past. It was a good friendship, where they liked each other for who they were now instead of before, one Ellana was unwilling to ruin for an imprudent question.

Instead she listened.

Where others saw a stiff apostate elf who cared little for anything in the waking world, she saw a sorrowful man lost in a world that did not accept him. She saw a look in his eyes that soldiers, widows, orphans, and she had in common; it was a look of deepest sorrow, telling the results of a story with a tragic ending. It was as obvious to her as Dorian’s bitterness, Blackwall’s guilt, or Sera’s self-loathing. So she listened to all his stories about the Fade, about raging armies who fought for lost causes, spirits who blessed heroes with gifts, or of empires long-gone, remembering those tales with the hopes of re-telling them around a campfire full of people she had left behind.

* * *

 After the fight with the magister, she woke up to find the leaders of the Inquisition bickering, letting their fear slither into their words. The Inquisition was their problem after all, and the only reason why she even cared about their argument was because it woke her from some of the most restful sleep she had in months. After some sort of demonstration of Andrastian faith, Solas asked to see her in private. He was as composed as ever, but the taunt line of his lips and the rigidness in his body did not escape her watchful eyes, so she waited silently for his news.

“How did you know the orb was elven, Solas? And why mention it now?” Her true question lied in her emerald eyes: _Did you not trust me?_ With the others she told them what they wanted to hear and see, but with him, she ached to be herself, to be the elf who ran barefooted among trees and rode halla across forests untouched by human eyes. Sometimes that ache would slip through her words or her eyes when she was with him, revealing ideas of a person different from the Herald of Andraste. Ellana realized that in a short time she had come to value his opinion and respect, and to hear news so late made her think he did not think the same of her.

He saw the question in her eyes, calmly giving a response. “I was unsure of the nature of the artifact. I did not wish to give incorrect information beforehand, in case I was wrong.” In a low voice he added, “I believed it would help more that way.”  
She pursed her lips and sighed, clasping her friend on the shoulder. “You know better than I on these matters. Let’s return before they start to think of questions; I’m not in the mood to deal with any of them, so if I play the sickness card, tag along.”  
“The spymaster won’t fall for such a trick,” Solas pointed out, amusement in his voice.  
“She only needs to pretend to fall for it. Under all those black feathers lies a pure heart.”  
“Her scouts will beg to differ.”  
“Of course they would. It’s their job to tremble under her stare, or Leliana wouldn’t have a job at all.”

They were a few feet away from the camp when he spoke again. “There is another matter.” Keeping his words vague, Solas informed her of a possible place where the Inquisition would have a place of its own. The only explanation he offered about the origins of his knowledge was that he encountered it during his travels in the Fade years ago, keeping it in mind should a need ever arise for such a location. Ellana knew him well enough to know it was his way of staying silent, so she did not press the matter out of respect. They all had their own secrets, and she wouldn’t appreciate it if he started asking about hers.

 He did not fail her; Skyhold proved to be a monster of a fortress, something out of stories. Everyone was immensely relieved for the protection Skyhold offered against the bitter winds of the Frostbacks, though she missed the open skies and the cold winds. Being in the fortress gave her a sense of foreboding, and she knew her life would only complicate itself from here on out, and never in her favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- A little slow in terms of dialogue, as this is more of an introduction.  
> \- Next chapter will cover Ellana's feelings about being made Inquisitor, and Solas's personal quest.


	2. A Secret for Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana admits her reasons behind becoming Inquisitor, and tells Solas a secret after he returns to Skyhold.

　　After reluctantly accepting a position as Inquisitor, Ellana found herself sulking in the atrium Solas took over. Sketches littered his desk, ranging in different art styles she’d never seen before – which was expected, considering how little she knew about the arts. She made herself comfortable in his chair as he painted, trying to figure out its meaning. It disturbed her when she realized it was the events of the Inquisition. His drawing style was pretty, but rather cryptic. It suited him.

“I take it you are not satisfied with the decision?” he asked, not bothering to turn around. The first time the leaders of the Inquisition asked about about the position, Ellana continued on with her days as if nothing had changed. Solas was the only one who noticed the lines at the edge of her eyes, how her mouth had the smallest frown whenever she spoke to the advisers. Maybe Varric also noticed, but the dwarf was too intimidated by the Herald to ask her about it. An elf as a leader would certainly be a shock to most of the traditionalists that lived in Thedas. 　　  
She glowered at his back, resisting the childish urge to stick out her tongue and make a face. Even if she did, he wouldn’t see her. Instead she sipped from her tea in a dignified manner, though no one was there to see whether she slurped or gulped. “Unsatisfied” was a mild description of how she felt about the situation.  
“Does my sulking around like a da’len not tell you the answer, hahren?” she responded innocently, her voice weaved with irony. 　　

He traded his red-tipped brush for a black one, and began to color the outline of a wolf. Wolves seemed to be involved in most of drawings, which Ellana pinned down to an odd fascination and admiration of his. Wolves were nice – at a distance, when they weren’t threatening you with sharp fangs and powerful jaws. 　  
“What your sulking tells me, da’len, is that you are unhappy with yourself. For all your soft smiles and pretty words, you are burdened with a task you never wanted.” Solas sounded sorry for her, and she allowed whatever pity she imagined in his voice comfort her for the moment. She stared at her tea for a few seconds, wishful for a strong liquor, and drowned what remained of it, slamming it on his desk. She draping herself haphazardly across the chair, staring at the ceiling above her. Ellana could almost see the cages of the messenger birds, though it was hard to tell against the darkness. Dorian was in animated discussion with Fiona; it was impossible to miss the Tevinter’s flashy clothing. It made him as obvious as a giant in Redcliffe.  
“I’m doing it for us, you know.” She quickly remembered that he didn’t identify with the Dalish, and rephrased her statement. “The People, anyways. The shemlen cause us enough grief as it is, and I don’t want their stupidity to be the reason a clan is killed. At least this way, I can protect them, somehow.”

If there was anything Solas learned about Ellana, it was that she cared little for the Inquisition, and most of her motivation came from an innate instinct to protect the Dalish. Her intentions were noble, but the Dalish were still misguided. Her spirited desire to improve her people was contagious, if anything, and Solas would find himself reconsidering his opinion of them at times. Elves have gone through many tribulations within the past centuries, and the nomads were trying their best to remember a lost civilization. The past was important to know, but even so, few were willing to let go of their idealization of it. 　

Coloring a wolf’s ear, he responded, “It’s enough of a reason as any, though I think it’s best if you keep that to yourself. For the followers of the Inquisition, you are a beacon of hope and courage, destined to defeat the evil that plagues the land. To know that you do it for a simpler reason would make them question their faith.” 　　  
She pursed her lips at the ceiling. “Not everything I do is for a grand reason. Actually, they’re mostly for very selfish reasons.” 　  
　“Sometimes the noblest of actions end in disaster,” he remarked, his voice unnaturally calm. 　  
　Propping herself up in the chair, Ellana looked at her friend, her eyes filled with hidden confusion. His words were tainted by experience, but what noble action could the most cautious person she’d ever met possibly commit? A knock interrupting their conversation. She languidly stood up to open the door, finding herself facing a human man of a thin frame, an inch shorter than herself. “Message fo’ -- for the Herald,” he said, slowly enunciating every word. “The ambassador wants you to meet a noble from Orlais. She says you’re to hurry and meet her at the stables.” 　  
“Tell her I’ll be there in minutes.” 　　  
The messenger nodded and ran off. Walking back inside, she stood beside Solas and stared at the wall, wondering where the mage learned the art. He avoided the question by giving vague answers; she recognized that he was uncomfortable with discussing it, and did not push the matter. There were few people, even among the Dalish, who knew how to apply elven fresco, and it would be a small step to reclaim the past., if she could persuade him to teach others. Besides, it looked pretty. 　　  
“I expect a noble is waiting to bask in your glory,” Solas dryly reminded her without looking away from the wall.  
“Since you’ve clearly had enough of mines, I believe I’ll take my glory elsewhere, where it’s much more appreciated,” she said gravely, turning dramatically on her heel. Looking back in time to see him shake his head, Ellana allowed herself a small smile. 

* * *

 

She was beside herself with worry, pacing in Solas’s atrium. “Oh Mythal, please protect him,” she pleaded, forgetting that before Solas joined the Inquisition, he roamed the world by alone and was very capable of defending himself. 　  
He had approached her on a cold morning, desperately asking for assistance to find a friend. It startled her to discover that they were running to aid a spirit, but she trusted him and did not question it. Solas spoke of the spirit as she would about a clan member, and it was enough to convince her to help.  In all honesty, the results didn’t surprise her; his friend was twisted and became a demon, and in the end, he was forced to let her go. Though the concept of spirits being friends was still strange to her, the pain in his face was not. Thus, when he asked for some time alone, she agreed,secretly hoping that the time would allow him to grieve in private. What Ellana expected was for him to be gone for three days at most, not three weeks. She refused to search for him, wanting him to return when he felt ready, not when she asked him to. 　　  
Worry clung to her heart, always in the back of her mind. It wasn’t in her nature to share her feelings to others, and reflecting upon the previous night made her realize that to the others, Ellana looked uninterested in his fate. She had speaking to Cole about his past when she overheard Sera talking to Blackwall, her loud voice echoing up to the rafters. “She doesn’t give a shite about his arse. He’s been gone almost a month and she hasn’t bothered to send anyone after him. Most people would look if they cared, yeah?” She silently thanked Cole, whose curious eyes stopped her from throwing a bottle at the girl’s head. At the moment, she didn’t feel very kindly towards the archer. Certainly she could care less if Sera disappeared into the bowels of whatever cesspool she came from. But she, unlike Sera, understood that Solas asked for time alone for a reason, and he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t believe he needed it. She hoped that he would return; she wasn’t sure if she could remain sane if he didn’t. Shemlen had the most ridiculous of ideas. 　　  
She reached out and softly touched one of the painted wolves that howled to the sky. What she wouldn’t give for a day alone in the forest, wild and free. To be part of a pack – her clan again. Placing her forehead against the wall, she released a troubled sigh. “Solas, may Mythal protect you, Sylaise grant you peace of mind, Ghilan’nain guide your steps, and Dirthamen grant you knowledge to know what you must do next,” she prayed out loud, hoping that giving voice to her worries would somehow make them less dangerous. 　　  
A discreet cough through her thoughts. “Inquisitor Lavellan?” 　  
She turned her head enough to see Cullen standing by the doorway, an odd expression on his face. “Yes?” she replied politely, her face impassive. “Our lookouts have reported that Solas is a mile away from Skyhold.” Ellana immediately straightened, pulling the ends of her shirt and running a hand through her cropped hair. “Creators be blessed! He was starting to worry me, disappearing like that.” 　  
　The commander was slightly surprised; usually the Inquisitor received any news with an eerie calm. He realized it was the first time he had heard her talk about her emotions, though it was only in passing. Many of his soldiers had begun to think she was made of stone – the idea was talked about so often that it was beginning to gain root in his mind. A curious thought appeared in his mind that he wanted to ask, but thought better of it and instead placed a hand on his neck. “Uh, Inquisitor...” 　　  
Ellana was halfway out the other exit when he spoke. She managed to yell back, “Later, Commander!” before slamming the door behind her. Cullen glanced at the door and sighed, walking back to his office with a little less vigor in his step. 　

　She arrived just in time as Solas walked through the gates. His face was haggard, his clothing a little worse for wear, a little more worn. He admitted that he considered leaving, but for the first time, called her ‘friend.’ Though her face remained still through the rest of the conversation, she was touched. It was the first time in months she had heard that word: “friend.” She was starting to think she wouldn’t use it until she returned to her clan. 　  
　“Thank you,” he stated simply at the end, the word heavy with its sincerity. 　  
　Ellana observed her friend, her head tilting slightly. She saw him in a moment of rage and despair. With sudden clarity, she realized their relationship was unbalanced. At some point in time they silently agreed to not speak of personal affairs. Now here she stood, with knowledge of him, and he continued to know nothing about her. And while she valued keeping her secrets close to her chest, she valued his friendship more. 　  
　“Walk with me, Solas,” she said. Solas looked at her, a question in his eyes. The Inquisitor was known for selflessness; she never asked for anything, instead giving everything for the Inquisition. He knew that was simply because she was desperate to leave, but it still sounded strange to hear her ask for a favor. Ellana began walking aimlessly around Skyhold, somehow walking across without anyone noticing the Inquisitor’s presence. 　　

In minutes they found themselves in an empty part of the battlements that still needed to repair. She looked at the floor, kicking a loose stone off the edge. They stood in silence for a few seconds; Lavellan gathering her courage, Solas wondering what she had to say. 　  
　“My husband was killed by a rogue mage,” she said matter-of-factly, staring out into the mountains. It took Solas by surprise; Ellana heard the rustle of clothes as he stopped himself from tripping. 　　  
“You were married?” he asked cautiously. He rarely thought about her life before the Inquisition, but nothing she said or did ever implied she had a lover. 　  
　Her lips were in a thin line. “Yes. We were together for ten years, married for eight. The clan was too close to a town that began to have problems with some visiting templars, so we decided to move earlier than usual. Aldhren volunteered to hunt and left. He was gone for hours more than usual, so we began to search for him. I found him by a game trail, burned. His face was black ash. I recognized him by the tattoo on his ring finger. We got matching ring tattoos when we married, too poor to afford anything else.” Her voice was void of any emotion as she rubbed her finger. Solas’s eyes flickered to her hand; he had assumed the tattoo was for the sake of decoration, he should have known better: Ellana wasn’t the type to do anything on a whim.  
　　Softly, he said, “Ir abelas, lethallan,” as he stood beside her. “Did you ever find the culprit?” 　  
　A smile he had never seen before curled itself on the Inquisitor’s face. Full of spite and battle-fever, it twisted her face into a feral mask better suited on a sick wolf. The legends about Dalish elves that were little better than beasts suddenly made sense. “Oh, I found her,” she spat scathingly, “She said she thought he was one of the templars, chasing her down. Didn’t bother to take a look at the ears or the marks on his face. ” 　  
He paused, unsure whether it was safe to ask anything else. Ellana seemed at ease despite the harshness on her face, so he allowed his curiosity to ask one more question. “What was her fate?” 　  
“What was the fate of the men who killed your friend?” she retorted with a small scoff. “That's your answer.”  
Solas glanced at Ellana from the corner of his eye, noticing her face had resumed its usual impassiveness. He killed the men who enslaved his friend, swift and decisive. Somehow, he had the feeling that the mage’s death wasn’t as simple. 　　  
She continued on, either ignoring or not noticing the doubt in his eyes. “I tell you this because we must value any second we have with those we love; we don’t know when we will see them again, because time is fickle and fate indecisive.” She sounded old beyond her years, speaking as if she had seen the worst of the world. In a way she had. Ignorance stripped when she cared about the most. He knew what that felt like, and that time would only reduce her rage to embers; it would never extinguish completely. 　  
　For a few minutes a silence stretched between the two elves, each deep within their own thoughts. Solas was the first to break the quiet. “Thank you.”  
“For what?” she responded, her tone curious tinged with surprise. 　  
“For trusting me with such a secret where others would have not.”

It was true. He had heard the rumors floating about Skyhold about himself; many believed that having an apostate mage was a danger. Untrained by Circles, people feared him as a liability. It did not bother him as it would others; he had grown accustomed to scorn. But someone trusted him enough to tell him about a delicate situation... Maybe it wasn’t too late to set things to right, if there was still someone who believed in him. 　　  
Ellana managed a trembling smile, her eyes over-bright. “What are friends for, but to share the good and the bad?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- A little longer than originally planned, mainly because I wanted to add more of Solas's perspective. Still not sure if I like it or not, so might rewrite in the future.


	3. A Friend's Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas questions Lavellan's choice in lovers, and later discuss the results of the Winter Palace.

“It's not wise, the games you are playing.”

Ellana stopped her exercise, wiping the sweat away from her eyes. The atrium was big enough for her to practice staff work, if she pushed the desk to the side; Solas never complained as long as she put everything back in its proper place. One of the consequences of having a mage twin sister was learning staff-work. While she detested practices in her youth (she easily beat her sister and friends on a regular basis). With her life now in constant danger, it was an easy way to stay in shape. Additionally, the companionable silence was comforting, though she could never persuade him to practice with her.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that, lethallin,” she responded demurely, thrusting the staff to her side. He looked down at her from the platform he was using, where he was drawing the outlines of his next painting. Climbing down the ladder, he wiped his hands on an old rag and went to his desk, his back to her.  
“Josephine is too oblivious to notice, Bull is too smart to take you seriously, and Sera is too idiotic to realize you flatter her to please. But the commander... “ Solas let the unfinished sentence hang between them like a thick spider’s web, sticking uncomfortably against her skin until she felt pressured to speak. Ellana swirled her staff around her wrist, leaning it against her arm for a diagonal swipe.

“What about the commander?” she asked innocently.  
“ _Lethallan_.”  
She picked up her pace, hoping that he wouldn’t press the matter. It was easy to forget Solas was observant; maybe not as much as Bull, who trained for such a skill, but enough so he knew when details were significant. The silence stretched on until she felt a tingle travel up her spine. With an unnecessary flourish, she brought her staff to a still and turned to find Solas leaning against his desk with a frown.

“Yes?” she sighed, already predicting the path of the discussion.  
“You have mentioned your disdain of templars multiple times, though never in public.”  
“I have also mentioned my disdain for mages multiple times, never in public. Specifically, I have mentioned my disdain for _rogue_ templars and mages who are little better than bandits, only to you. May I remind you that you disapprove of Wardens, yet you continue to play card games with Blackwall?”  
Solas remained unfazed by her retort. “Yet you continue to pursue a templar, despite your history with them? Would you even tell him anything, or will that relationship be built on nothing but empty promises and lust? Or built upon your desire of revenge?” Ellana’s glare was powerful enough to freeze most people into silence, but Solas remained impassive, his face smooth as stone. She knew her friend was only looking out for her, but she didn’t have to like it.

“Have I ever done anything for one reason, lethallin?” she inquired, her voice somehow calm despite her irritation. “Maybe it’s both, or more. Maybe I’m trying to root our commander from losing his mind from withdrawal; he certainly needs it, after he threw a case of lyrium at the wall. Maybe I’m trying to put rumors to rest, because at the moment I’m starting to sound like the most infamous slut in all Thedas. Who knew shemlen were so desperate to see me bedding someone.” Slowly twirling her staff, she kept talking without making eye contact. “Or maybe I actually like the commander, Solas. Have you thought of that?”

He scoffed, causing Ellana to wince. “I have considered and eliminated it. It is more likely you lust after the commander than like.” He relaxed his stance, rubbing his forehead. “I am simply warning you of the path ahead. He’s a troubled man, and you have been through much in the past few months. You deserve happiness, but I must question if this is the right way to do it.” She paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow at Solas.  
“You need some happiness too. Go bed someone, maybe then you won’t be as stiff.”  
He remained as dignified as ever, his voice hauntingly superior. “You’re beginning to sound like Sera. Next you’ll tell me to consort with spirits.” Ellana lunged lazily at Solas, swiping the staff at his head. He ducked with practiced ease, a wry grin on his face.

* * *

  
 Solas and Ellana stood atop one of the many towers that dotted the battlements, staring at the night sky. It was a cloudless nights, and in the darkness the stars shined as brightly as the snow.

“I can’t believe you actually enjoyed the Winter Palace,” the Inquisitor sighed, a puff of smoke emitting from her mouth. Solas made a face and wafted it away.  
“I can’t believe you enjoy inhaling crushed crystal grace.”  
“It relaxes me after tiresome adventures,” she stated in her loftiest voice.  
“Tea is relaxing. Reading a book is relaxing. I have yet to see how smoking is.” “You have yet to see many things, hahren. You’re twenty years too old for that attitude.” She exhaled through her nose. Ellana lied on the stone floor as if was made of the softest velvet, while Solas propped himself on a corner, entertaining himself with a book. “Anyways, never imagined that such a event full of human silliness would be fun to you. I was tempted to slap them all for their foolishness.”

He turned a page of the book, only half-listening. “The Fade is full of such events. Machinations like the ones we have witnessed are not unique only to humans. Power, envy, lust, desire, ambition and lies are present in every race; it is simply the surroundings that change, but not the situation.”  
“Oh really?” she inquired, “So those types of things are common with these cities?” Due to her position, most people didn’t realize that the Inquisitor was naive when it came to matters of the “civilized” world. Though she was quickly learning, there were still gaps in her knowledge.  
“They are as common as elfroot,” he responded absently, more focused on his book than the conversation. “Every society, regardless of size, has its troubles. Orlais revolved around the rising of an empress and her shamed cousin. The Imperium lives in constant fear of assassins. Antiva is the servant to the whims of the merchant princes, its people dealing with the consequences in the form of price. It is a constant in time.”

Solas looked up and gazed at the Inquisitor thoughtfully. “You did well.”

She snorted through her nose. “Tell that to the elves. It hurt me that I couldn’t put Briala in power, but Celene’s ass sat on the throne and I figured it’d be best to keep it there. I did promise Briala help though, so there’s that.” Solas rose an eyebrow.

“You promised the enemy of your ally aid in her cause? That is a bold move.” Ellana shrugged, too relaxed to do much else.  
“I had to do something. Besides, it’ll keep Celene clutching at us to keep them at bay. It works both ways.”

He looked at his friend with silent admiration. He doubted that anyone else knew how much thought she put into her actions. It wasn’t what he expected when he first saw a Dalish lying on the floor of a damp cell. Though she detested the Inquisition, she still acted in their best interest. Despite her race, she had wooed an entire country to her whim. She never belittled the others, and did not presume that the Dalish knew everything there was to know. Humility was a trait he rarely saw, and it suited her well.

“You show wisdom I have not seen in ages.”  
She was quick to respond, her tongue quick as ever. “You show knowledge I haven’t heard of. Our opinions may differ on occasion, but I respect your opinion more than anyone else’s.”  
Solas was quiet for a few seconds. “Thank you.”  
Ellana squirmed, slightly embarrassed. No one bothered to thank her anymore, and while it felt nice, it was still a strange feeling. “You’re the only one who makes sense, anyways.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late, but I've been very busy the past few weeks. Still trying to get used to writing creatively. Next chapter will cover the Wardens and the meaning of vallaslin.


	4. A Cunning Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas confronts Ellana about the Wardens, and later reveals the truth behind her face markings.

“Hahren, you know the Wardens will help the Inquisition,” she said patiently for the third time in the past ten minutes. It was as close as to pleading she would ever get. While Solas wasn’t as angry as a few days ago, it was his turn to do little more than sulk. He didn’t bother hiding his displeasure of the Warden’s company, and it seemed he still wasn’t satisfied with the scolding he gave last week.

“But at what cost, Ellana? Do we wait until the Calling destroys them from within, meanwhile using them as we see fit? Or do we simply exploit the crumbling Order to the Inquisition’s benefit?” he rambled, pacing the garden. With the presence of the Inquisitor and her apostate friend, few were brave enough to stick around. It didn’t help that he was – for lack of a better term – having a tantrum.

“Hm? Oh sorry, I was distracted by the relevance of your shiny bald head reflecting the sunlight. Quite a weapon in itself, really,” she snapped. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she laid down on the bench, staring out into the blue sky. The clouds were twirling together, warning that rain was coming later in the day. “That’s not my problem. I saw that they would be more beneficial conscripted than exiled. If they can’t perform out in the field, they’re at least experienced warriors and can help Cullen train the recruits. It also gives the impression that we’re on good terms with legends, and is a little slap on the hand for that shemlen king -- the Ferelden one. What was his name? Alan?”

“Alistair,” he replied stiffly.

“Yeah, him. I heard enough of his complaints at Redcliffe, He was a Warden, right? It’ll make him think twice before he thinks of doing anything. For now, anyways. And it should also get the Warden-Commander in our good graces; she’ll think that they’ll be put to good use to redeem themselves while she was gone.” She plucked a blade of grass, tearing it into fine little strands of fiber.

Solas leaned against the well, staring into the distance. It puzzled him how she had such an intricate awareness of people without being exposed to them constantly. Her wit belonged to an experienced player of the Game, not a secluded nomad. Yet she figured out people like they were merely puzzles. It made him wonder how she would have done in the days of Arlathan – would she have limited herself to to the station of a mere citizen, or fought her way to nobility? What could she have done, or do, with an education? She was changing the world with little more than broken interpretation and creative improvisation. 

He blinked, bringing his thoughts back to the present. “There are times where I find it difficult to believe you never were a scholar. Your actions implies otherwise.”

Ellana tapped the markings on her face, secretly glad that his foul mood was fizzing out. “Dirthamen, Solas. While I don’t have much book-learning, there’s other types of knowledge in the world.” At the mention of the elven god, Solas stirred but remained quiet. “I never do anything for one reason, remember? No, I must always over-complicate things, mustn’t I?” She suppressed a sigh. The Inquisition was more work than it was worth.

“Few would think that far.” He paused, his fingers resting on his chin. “Have you given any thought about our last conversation?”

“The one about what the Inquisition will do afterwards?”

“Yes.”

She plucked a strand of elfroot, rolling it in between her fingers, eyes downcast. “No, I have not.”

“You will have to have an answer, once this is over. The Inquisition is a powerful force, able to shape the futures of many with one decision. Many would kill for such a position.”

“I never asked for this,” she responded softly, as if all the Inquisition would hear if she spoke in anything louder than a whisper.

“I know.”

* * *

 

“Why, Inquisitor, did you think it was a good idea to drink from the Well?” Solas shouted, loud enough to startle the ravens near the ceiling. Ellana could see Leliana and Dorian leaning over the stairwells, surprise and curiosity on their faces. This was even worse than his complaints about the Wardens. At least then it wasn’t enough to attract the attention of people on the floors above.

Taking a guess of how this conversation would end, she gripped him harshly by the arm, dragging him to the stables. Tight-lipped she saddled two horses, offering one to her friend. He mounted with a glare, and within minutes they found themselves outside of Skyhold. Though she was surprised to find him so passionate about such a little thing, it wouldn’t do well for people to see the Inquisitor arguing with a companion; it would bring into question her authority, and there was enough trouble with establishing it in the first place. This wasn’t their first conversation about the matter, but it seemed as if Solas wasn’t satisfied with what he said before.

Once they were at a safe distance, he resumed yelling. “You have enslaved yourself to an elven god – if such a thing exists – and now bow to her every whim and fancy! You have lost control of your free will, of making decisions for yourself!” He scolded, his face contorted with anger and frustration. 

Ellana gracefully dismounted from her horse, deciding that this unremarkable spot was as well as any for him to vent. She patted her horse while Solas kept whining about her choice. When was the last time she had said anything for herself, anyway? Before her time with the Inquisition, for sure. After all, it had been out of goodwill, and she couldn’t see the issue with that.

“Ellana Lavellan! Have you listened to a word I said?” At some point he also dismounted, and was now leaning on his horse with an expression fit for a irritated noble.

“No, hahren,” she responded wearily. 

He threw up his hands in disgust. “I assumed that Cullen would have talked some sense into that thick skull of yours!”

Ellana bristled at the mention of her lover. Maybe it was result of months of stress or of suppressing her own thoughts, but she could feel her anger beginning to bubble.

“Cullen?” she hissed, walking around her horse. “Was it not you who questioned my motive about seeing the commander, and now you expect him to persuade  _me_? He’s a boy who twitches at the sight of magic, worried that the lyrium will drag him back and he’ll fail this supposed ‘duty’ he has for the Inquisition! I thought he’d be useful in finding that templar, but he knows little to nothing on the damned order he cares so much about! How will he ever persuade me in anything, when I’m the one who can make him follow my every word with a smile or a kiss? ”

“This is not the time–”

“Not the time for what?” she snapped, whirling to face her friend. “I didn’t want to be this Inquisitor. I went to the Conclave only to learn of the shemlen actions, to see if the world would be swallowed by blade or flame. The Dalish have begun to question my alliance, thinking I’ve converted to these idiotic–”

Solas resisted the urge to scoff. Her loyalty was admirable, but he didn’t see why she worried so much about the opinion of uneducated elves, believing stories that were little more than embellished legends of distorted mythical beings that barely existed in the first place. “The Dalish are little more than children, trying to reclaim an idealized past–”

Ellana interrupted, any patience and self-restraint gone. “The Dalish are  _my people_ , Solas, children or not! They are my family, the people who were there for me when I was at my lowest, when I thought the world was black and bleak. We want to know who we were, what we did! The Well could answer all those questions! It could answer so many disputes, teach new knowledge! It can tell us about the fall of my people! ”

“But you have become a ser–”

“YES!” she bellowed with impatience and pent-up rage, making Solas take a step back. “Yes, I am little more than a slave to Mythal, and I am okay with it! It’s an honor, the price was well worth it! We don’t have the luxury to pass up such a gift, even if it’s wrapped in chains! It’s my duty, as a servant to Dirthamen, to keep secrets and reclaim lost know–”

Solas scowled. “It is a lie!” he snapped, curtly enough to surprise Ellana into silence. He began to pace back and forth, wringing his hands. There was something about his behavior that mellowed her anger for the moment, replaced by curiosity at her friend’s strange actions.

 “It’s not how I planned to tell you,” he finally said, his voice hesitant. “In truth, I did not plan to mention it. I never expected to find anything that would draw my attention from the Fade, but you... You possess a clarity of mind, a strength of character, and a gift of cunning I have never seen before, even in my travels.” The sudden change of topic startled her, but it was rare to hear Solas speak well of anyone; when he did, it was sincere, and not for the sake of flattery, like she often did. She furrowed her brow; the past few months have made her extremely suspicious to flattery. “It gives me courage,” he admitted. “It is hope that even with the odds against you, it only takes one to change the tide. That it is better to try and change than to let it all fall apart.”

For a few moments Ellana stared, then laughed scathingly. “I appreciate the sentiment, hahren, but that’s all a lie, a mask for the Inquisition, and you out of all of them know it.”

“No, it is not.” He stated firmly. “It’s a mask placed due out of necessity, not because you believe it true. Similar to the vallaslin upon your face.” Solas made a vague gesture towards her face.

Her fingers brushing against her cheek. “What does my vallaslin have to do with anything?”

The mage stood still, carefully thinking about his words. “I have seen things in my travels across the Fade,” he began slowly. “The vallaslin the Dalish use to indicate the rite of adulthood... In ancient Arlathan, it was used mark slaves. Nobles would mark them with their patron god, in hopes to please a greater power.”

Her hands immediately flew to her face, tracing the marks she was so familiar with. Solas spoke with such confidence, and she trusted him enough to know he wouldn’t have said something unless he was absolutely sure. “No.”

Solas bowed his head. “Ir abelas, lethallan. I wanted you to know the truth, though it is different from the history you were taught.” Aware of her loyalty to the Dalish, he chose his next words carefully. “If you wish, I know of a spell to remove the valla–”

“No,” she interrupted firmly, standing straight. “It may have meant that, once, but we have reclaimed it as our own. We have given it a different meaning, made it a symbol of our people. We may have been slaves, once, but they show that even slaves can improve to a better life. That we will never again submit.” She managed a wry grin despite her clouded emotions. Her shoulders slouched slightly, weighted down by this new knowledge “Though, some will beg to differ that riding in aravels and breeding halla isn’t much of an improvement.”

He grinned. It wasn’t a surprise that Ellana chose to see the situation that way, and while it still pained him to see her with those markings, it was a reminder that things changed. Bad things could take on new meanings, full of hope. That there was only an end if one decided so. “I admire your strength. Too many people are unwilling to admit their faults and change, in the hopes to improve themselves.”

“Maybe us children can teach you something,” she replied, mock-serious.

“Indeed. Wisdom can come from the most unexpected of places.”

“And snide remarks come from the most likeliest.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a buy few week. Next chapter will cover the end of DAI.  
> As always, I feel so bad talking shit about Cullen (but I also secretly love it. Maybe I'll write another one shot about those two soon).  
> Also thinking about writing another one-shot specifically about the vallaslin scene with a friend instead of a lover. I didn't go as in-depth as I'd like, because I'm still a little unsure how it'd go and this chapter would have been longer than I would have liked.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't want to bore you by paragraphs, so bullet form we go:  
> \- Inspired by the idea that elvhen (possibly) even had a whole story revolving around the idea of a strong friendship. Also, the world can never have enough friendship stories.  
> \- Wanted to explore the idea of how he would act with a good friend, since it's said that in the romance, the Inquisitor saw more of Solas than anyone else and I thought that would/should have extended to a friend.  
> \- Will be separated into ~6 chapters (or more, depending on feedback and other factors) so it's easier to read. Story is already typed, just need to be edited. It follows DAI storyline/in game interactions.  
> \- Ellana Lavellan (yes I was lame and went with the default name) is a character I've written a short story before that you can check out on this account. Both stories are completely separate, but the other one gives a more in-depth view on Ellana herself (called 'The Hunter's Shadow, if any are interested).


End file.
